


Fear

by DarylsBabyGirl



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, First Kiss, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-16 20:29:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11836473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarylsBabyGirl/pseuds/DarylsBabyGirl
Summary: Jesus grabbed Daryl's wrists and leaned down. The hunter's eyes blinked rapidly. He was breathing heavily and licking his lips. Daryl sat up, looking around to try to see where he was at. He could barely remember what happened. Paul was staring at him, eyes wide and fearful, tears pricking at the corners.





	Fear

**Author's Note:**

> Here's the next Tumblr Prompt! It was "omg please tell me you're not bit!" If you want me to, I'll add a bit more to it. A sex scene would've seemed to much, though. Just let me know if you want me to add a second chapter or something!

It was finally over. Negan was dead. The Saviors were scattered. They could finally start to rebuild. Alexandria's gates were down, so everyone had divided between Hilltop, Kingdom and Oceania while the fixed the gates and the houses. During the war, Jesus had become close friends with just about everyone. He watched Judith when no one else could. He taught others basic defensive moves. He went on runs, grieved the lost and comforted the survivors. He was glue, he kept everyone together, kept spirits up and supported Rick, Maggie and Ezekiel. 

Daryl watched him closely. He saw through the man's mask easily. Paul Rovia acted strong, smiled easily and talked tough; but, Daryl knew the man was putting up a front. So, he stayed by the man's side as a silent pillar of support. Jesus noticed, however. He saw how Daryl had begun to stick near him and covering his back during battle. The hunter had risked his life many times to save Paul's. They didn't talk much. There wasn't any need. Daryl always seemed to know just what he needed, be it silence, a shoulder to cry on or someone to listen as he vented about one thing or another. 

Paul could see through Daryl, too. He could see how the hunter would get overwhelmed around too many people. Unexpected loud noises scared the hunter. Rick's anger made Daryl fearful of him. Fire seemed to be the one thing Daryl couldn't stand. He'd told Paul why one night. His mother had died in a trailer fire, she'd fallen asleep with a cigarette lit. Paul had sat close to him on the balcony of Barrington House, their legs hanging over the edge between slates, listening intently while the hunter just talked. They'd both had a rough day of burning bodies and building grave markers for their dead. 

They went silent after Daryl had finished his story. Paul was staring up at the sky while Daryl stared down at the trailers in deep thought. Their hands were close, nearly touching. Daryl could feel the warmth of Paul's skin against his own. The hunter's heart raced. He tore his eyes away from the trailers and looked at Paul when he felt the man scoot closer. Paul smiled at him warmly, eyes alight with affection. 

“Do you want to go down to the bonfire?” He asked softly. 

Daryl shrugged, hand inching closer to Paul's. “... Nah... kinda like it up here.”

Paul blinked. “... Do you want to be alone?” He bit his bottom lip, praying the hunter would say no. 

The hunter shifted nervously. “Nah.” He moved his hand another inch closer to Paul's, their hands now touching. 

Paul looked down at their hands, then slowly lifted his own and placed it over Daryl's. The hunter turned his hand so their fingers could thread, their palms pressed tight together. The hunter swallowed thickly, staring at where their hands joined together. The scout scooted closer, and then leaned in. He kissed Daryl's cheek softly, chuckling when the man's stubble tickled his nose. Daryl's face turned slowly, pressing into his chapped lips. 

“Are you okay with this?” The scout whispered. 

Daryl swallowed thickly. “Yeah.” He rasped.

Paul smiled and brought his other hand up to Daryl's cheek. “I like you.”

Daryl's lips parted, his breath caught in his throat at the words. He leaned into Paul's hand. He's seen these hands do terrible things. Now, they were being gentle and careful, treating him like something fragile. He tightened his hold on Paul's hand and leaned closer. Paul was staring at him, waiting for an answer. Shit. He better say something. “Like ya, too.” 

The scout smiled more, cheeks flushing a cute pink. “Good. You took a while to answer, so I thought-”

“Just... I've never felt like this before. Didn't even know what it was 'til you said it first.” 

Paul chuckled softly and rested his forehead against Daryl's. “You're too precious, Dixon.” He whispered and leaned closer. Their lips pressed together gently. Daryl flinched back in surprise, eyes wide and heart racing. He stared into Paul's eyes. “I'm sorry... was that too much?” 

The hunter licked his lips. He could taste Paul on them. “Can we try again?”

Paul smiled. “You don't need to ask.” He leaned forward again, slower this time, watching Daryl's reaction. He could see the hunter swallow thickly and lean to meet him. 

Their lips met again, barely even touching. When Daryl pressed forward more, Paul let the kiss deepen. He kept his hand on Daryl's cheek, fingers brushing the hunter's ear and hair. Daryl tasted sweet from the strawberries they ate earlier and just a hint bitter from his cigarettes. His lips were wet and chapped from licking them. The scout moaned, parting his lips and sliding his tongue out to chase the taste. He licked across Daryl's lips and tried pushing in when he was suddenly shoved back. He grunted, landing back on his elbow.

“Daryl?” He looked up at the hunter who was now standing over him, eyes wide and chest heaving. “I-I'm sorry, did I-”

“I need ta go.” The hunter suddenly turned and walked back into the house, making a beeline for the stairs.

“Wh- Daryl!” Paul stood up and looked into the house, watching the hunter's back disappear around a corner. He sighed and leaned back against the railing. “Good going, Rovia... you scared him off.” He groaned and leaned his head back, staring up into the stars. He figured he'll give the man a couple hours to cool off and then he'd go talk to him.

 

Daryl went into the room he was supposed to share with Paul and grabbed his crossbow from the wall and shrugged it on. He couldn't stay. He had to leave. His heart was beating a hundred miles a minute, his chest ached, his lungs were working overtime to keep oxygen. His brother's words were flying around in his head. 'My brother ain't no faggot... yer twenty one now, Daryl, have sex for Christ's sake! Here! Do another shot! You won't even be able ta tell the difference if yer too drunk or high ta notice!'

With his bow on his shoulder and his knife on his belt, Daryl hurried out of the room, trying to escape the memories of his twenty first birthday in a smokey, dirty hotel room surrounded by hookers and his brother's laughter. He took the stairs three at a time and was at the door in no time. He swung it open, nearly launching himself off the porch and heading for the gate. 

Rick was sitting on a log, Judith sleeping in his arms. Michonne was next to him, teasing Carl about Enid and giggling at the boy's blushing cheeks. The father smiled at his little family. He spotted Daryl's shadow crossing the yard over Michonne's shoulder and frowned. The hunter was making a straight shot for the gate, shoulders back and tense. 

“Michonne, can you take Judith?” He asked, handing the little girl over. She made a whining sound, but relaxed when Michonne rested her against her chest. 

“What's going on?”

“Something's up with Daryl...” Rick murmured and stood up. He approached the gate, hearing Daryl yell at the two boys on watch, threatening them with his bow if they didn't open the gate. They finally relented and started opening the gate. “Daryl! Wait!” The hunter ignored him, squeezing through the tiny hole. The gate was shut again before Rick could catch his brother's shoulder. “Dammit.” He glared up at the two men. “Why'd you open the gate?”

“Sorry Mr. Rick, but he was insistent... said he had to go.” One of the men said. 

“Go where?”

“He wouldn't say.”

Carl came up behind his father, one hand on his knife. “We going after him?”

“Yeah.” Rick turned to him. “Daryl can take care of himself, but he seemed upset, I don't trust him out there at night by himself. Go find Jesus. He can track just as good as Daryl. He'll be able to help us find him.” Carl nodded and turned to the house to find the scout. Rick walked back over to Michonne. “Carl, Jesus and I are going after Daryl.”

Michonne nodded. “Any idea why he left? He hasn't gone out at night since the prison.”

Rick shook his head, reaching down to pet Judy's blonde curls. “I don't know, but I'll find out.” He leaned down and kissed Michonne before heading inside to get a couple flashlights.

Jesus and Carl were hurrying down the stairs when the leader came back to the front door. “Daryl left?!”

Rick looked up at him. “Yeah. He looked upset. Did somethin happen? He was with you last I saw.”

The scout shifted nervously, bringing his hands in front of his stomach to fidget with. “... We were just talking and...” He didn't want to say much else. He didn't know if Daryl had told his family that he was gay. “I don't know.”

Rick raised an eyebrow, hands on his hips and staring up at the scout sternly. “... We'll talk more later. Right now, we need to go find Daryl.” He turned and walked out the door, Jesus and Carl following close behind. Armed and alert, they walked out the gates in search of the awol hunter. 

 

Daryl paced. He punched and kicked trees in anger. He couldn't get the memory of that big breasted bitch riding him out of his head. He felt disgusted. He could feel her tongue in his mouth, her hands groping his chest and her eyes hazy with the heroin she'd shot in her arm. His skin crawled and he let out a grunt of anger. He'd been furious with Merle the next morning. He'd kicked that whore out as soon as he woke up and remembered how he lost his virginity, remembered how he'd been drunk and raped by a druggie. 

He just wanted to go back to the house and took a long hot shower, maybe curl up in Paul's bed and breathe in his scent. The man had such a calming affect on the hunter. He just didn't want Paul to see him panicking and anxious like this. Daryl finally stopped pacing and leaned against the tree he'd been abusing, crossbow slipping from his hand and to the forest floor. He closed his eyes and bit back a whimper and took a deep breath to try to calm his racing heart, but that woman's eyes flashed through him again. He snapped his eyes open, and barely had time to react when a walker stumbled into him. 

“Fuck-!”

He shoved the walker away and bent down to pick up his fallen weapon. The walker was already reaching for him again. He wrestled with it, stepping back to escape that bloody jaw. His heel connected with the tree's root and he fell back, crossbow flying in the air. His back hit a hill and he rolled down it, the walker not too far behind. His head hit a rock and his vision blacked out.

 

Paul's heart was racing and his chest ached with worry for Daryl. What had he done wrong? Daryl had said he was fine with kissing and touching. He kept his eyes on the ground, flashlight pointed down so he could follow Daryl's footprints. The hunter must have been very upset if he hadn't bothered to cover his tracks. Rick and Carl were close behind, keeping an eye out for walkers while Jesus led them to Daryl. When the scout stopped and looked around, they stopped as well. 

“What's wrong, Jesus?” Rick asked. 

“The tracks stop here.” Jesus whispered. He pointed the flashlight around, then back at the ground. “... He was pacing.” 

Carl nodded. “Daryl does that when he's mad.”

“I've noticed...” The scout murmured. He froze when he saw Daryl's crossbow hanging of a tree limb by it's strap. “Look!”

Rick and Carl turned, following the flashlight's beam to the crossbow. “Shit!” Rick rushed forward, reaching for it and pulling it down. “Where is he?”

Jesus stepped close to the edge and pointed the flashlight down. It searched around for a few seconds before finding the hunter's still form. “Down there... he must've slipped...” 

“There's a walker down there.” Carl growled. “Can you hear it..?”

“Yeah...” Rick sighed. “Doesn't look like it's got him, yet... we need to get down there.” He pulled the crossbow onto his shoulder. 

“I'll go...” Jesus whispered, handing the flashlight to Rick. “I used to hike and go rock climbing. This isn't any different.”

Rick held the flashlight down on the hill so Jesus could see where he was stepping. The walker's legs were bent at odd angles, so it couldn't walk. It was crawling across the ground toward Daryl, hissing and growling. It latched onto Daryl's shirt, pulling itself those last few inches and leaned down for Daryl's bare shoulder. Rick's heart stopped in his chest. “DARYL!”

Jesus jumped the last foot of the hill and yanked his knife out from its sheath. He yanked the walker away from Daryl and lodged the blade in the walker's head. He pulled the knife back out and shoved the walker away. The scout panted, hair sweaty and sticking to his neck and face. The blade was cleaned on his pants and put back in its sheath. 

“Daryl...” 

He knelt down to the hunter, swallowing thickly as he searched for a bite. The hunter was dirty and scratched up from his tumble down the hill. He brushed dirty and grass from Daryl's shoulder where the walker had been leaning to bite when he was once again shoved away. 

“Daryl! Daryl, it's me!”

Jesus grabbed Daryl's wrists and leaned down. The hunter's eyes blinked rapidly. He was breathing heavily and licking his lips. Daryl sat up, looking around to try to see where he was at. He could barely remember what happened. Paul was staring at him, eyes wide and fearful, tears pricking at the corners.

“Paul..?”

“Yeah... calm down... I'm checking you for a bite...” His voice shook. “Please... let me check you.”

“What..?” Daryl groaned in pain. His head really hurt, but he let Paul's hands feel his shoulder for a bite. The sigh of relief made him look up at the scout. “... It didn't get me?”

“No.” Paul smiled. “No, it didn't get you.” He leaned forward, resting his head on Daryl's shoulder. “It didn't...” The tears began falling, wetting Daryl's shirt and skin. He gripped the hunter's shirt tightly. 

“Paul...” Daryl lifted his hand, touching the back of Paul's head. 

“You can't do that to me, Daryl. You can't...” He choked on a sob. “You can't tell me you like me, and then run off and fall down a cliff. I can't take it. I was so worried and scared. When that walker went to bite you...” He trailed off. It was too much just to talk about it. Daryl remained silent, though his hand was petting through Paul's hair, offering silent comfort. 

 

They got back to Hilltop within an hour. The gate opened and Daryl ignored everyone's curious gazes. He marched into the house, Jesus not far behind, and up the stairs to their room. Rick walked over to Michonne with Carl.

“Everything alright?” She asked, looking up at them worriedly. 

“Yeah.” Rick rubbed his hand over his face tiredly. “We managed to save him in time.” Michonne nodded in understanding and scooted over so Rick could sit down next to her. Carl sat back down in his own spot and took Judith, smiling at her gummy giggle.

Paul followed Daryl into the room and shut the door quietly. He leaned against it and watched the hunter hang his precious weapon up. He watched the man pace back and forth in front of the bed, occasionally bringing his thumb up to the teeth, biting on the already short nail. 

“Daryl, sit down... let me check your head.” 

The hunter stopped and looked at the scout. He hesitated, and then walked over to a chair and sat down. Paul walked up to him and gently parted the dark, sweaty hair to check Daryl's head. 

“I don't see any blood. You'll probably have a nasty head ache tomorrow, though.” He whispered. He didn't step away. Instead, he let his fingers comb through Daryl's hair. “Why did you leave?”

Daryl didn't know what to tell the man. How do you tell someone that their kiss brought back terrible memories without offending the other person? So, he shrugged and stared down at his dirty fingernails. 

“Daryl, it had to have been something I did.” Paul walked around the chair and knelt in front of the hunter. “Please, tell me... I don't want to cause you any more pain.”

He swallowed thickly, staring down into Paul's warm eyes. One look from the scout and Daryl would do anything he wanted. “Wasn't anythang you did. Was... was Merle.”

“Merle? Your brother? I thought he was dead.”

“He is.”

“Then what-”

Daryl grunted and stood. He stepped away from Paul. “He found out I's gay a couple weeks b'fore my twenty first birthday. He was furious, started hollarin that he didn't want a fag for a brother.” Paul winced at the word and stood up. He followed Daryl over to the window. “So... he got me real drunk and high on my twenty first birthday, said if I lose my virginity to some whore, maybe I'll turn straight.”

Paul's lips parted in understanding. “Oh, Daryl.” He stepped closer, reaching for the hunter's hands. Daryl let him fold their fingers together. “I'm sorry. That's... that's something that should have never happened to you.” 

Daryl shrugged. “Was a long time ago.”

“It doesn't matter how long ago it was, it shouldn't have happened, especially for your first time.” He rested their foreheads together and stared into Daryl's eyes. “Rape should never be taken lightly, no matter the circumstances.”

The hunter nodded and swallowed thickly. He could feel another anxiety attack coming on. The tears welled up in his eyes and he whimpered. Paul released one of his hands and brought it to his cheek, wiping the tears away. 

“It doesn't change how I feel about you either. If anything, it makes my feelings for you stronger, knowing what you've been through and opening up to me about it.” He whispered. He released Daryl's other hand and hugged him close. 

Daryl buried his face in Paul's shoulder, his chest heaving and shoulders shaking with his sobs. He cried for the loss of his virginity in such a terrible way. He cried for the loss of his brother, even if he was an asshole. He cried for Lori, Beth, Sasha, T-Dog, Tyreese, Noah and Glenn. 

“It's alright to feel, Daryl. You're allowed to feel fear, sadness, grief and love. Emotions are scary, but they're an essential part of life. Locking them away will only make you feel worse.” Paul whispered, pressing kisses to Daryl's temple and hair while his hand stroked over the hunter's back.

Daryl choked on a sob. He let the emotions he'd kept locked away for so long free. His arms hugged the scout's waist and held him close and tight. He breathed in Paul's scent deeply and basked in his warmth. The fingers in his hair were comforting. He cried for what felt like hours, but couldn't have been more than a few minutes. 

Paul led him over to the bed and they laid down. Almost immediately, Daryl was back in Paul's arms, resting his head on his shoulder, nose against Paul's neck. The scout merely smiled and held him close, petting his hair and humming and singing softly. Daryl closed his eyes, finally relaxing. Paul's voice was soothing and warm, washing over the hunter like blanket fresh out of the dryer. He took one last deep breath in and slipped away to sleep.


End file.
